


T.A.L.O.N.

by Scotty1609



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Amnesia, Court of Owls, Dick Grayson is a Talon, F/M, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Major Character Undeath, Temporary Character Death, What Have I Done, no editing we die like robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 21:35:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15082211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scotty1609/pseuds/Scotty1609
Summary: “Bruce Wayne-” he began once more, only to be cut off by Damian.“Yes, the Court of Owls has sentenced Father to die. You've said this before.”“-the Court of Owls offers their condolences,” the Talon said instead, “to the death of your son. And to his life.”





	T.A.L.O.N.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little blurb that I wrote when I couldn't sleep. May expand, probably won't. Let's see where this goes.
> 
> Unbeta'd, and unedited because I was lazy.
> 
> WARNINGS: extremely graphic violence, major character (temporary) death, comic-book-inconsistency and a general fuck-all of DC stuffs
> 
> The Robin at the beginning of this story is Tim Drake. Sorry for not clarifying that.

It was Robin's broken scream that had Batman whirling around on a dime, still holding the half-unconscious thug he was interrogating. Robin was crouched on the ground, cape hiding the form beneath him from view. His face was distraught, voice cracking as he shouted. Batman's gaze flitted up to the thug holding a smoking gun across the alleyway, the man's expression one of sheer terror as he met Batman's gaze. Robin shifted, his cape revealing a bloodied black and blue glove.

Just as it all clicked, the thug in Batman's grip let out a wet chuckle. “Looks like one less birdie'll be flyin' tonight, huh, Bats?”

Batman felt no regret in slamming the man's head into a metal pipe in the alleyway. The Dark Knight was about to give chase to the gunman, who had gotten wise and ran as soon as he realized he was the next target, but a sob from Robin drew his attention.

He had seen one a many crime scenes before, and the hardest ones were those involving families. It was always families that hit the hardest. And now, as Batman's gaze fell upon where Robin was desperately trying to scoop up bits of brain matter and shove them back into Nightwing's shattered skull, he felt his whole world tilt sideways.

It took a whole two minutes before Batman was able to clear his throat and radio Agent A and Superman. It took another minute before Batman was actually able to cross over to Robin and stiffly pull the boy's blood and mud coated hands away from Nightwing's face. “B-Bat-Batman-” Robin sobbed out, “he's... he's gonna be okay, he's gonna- he's gonna make it. J'onn and M'gann... they can... they can help him and-” Robin's tongue was a spinning record, unable to form coherent thoughts beyond Nightwing's survival.

Batman took one look at Nightwing's face: half of his skull sunken in, the bullet having entered through the occipital lobe and exited the frontal lobe, with bits of pink organ and mud from Robin's frantic shoveling coating the missing quarter of his skull. His mouth was open a fraction, as if he had been about to speak before he was shot. Probably to make some snarky comment to Batman. From the distance he had been shot at, it was a lucky hit. If he had been wearing Bruce's cowl, then maybe he wouldn't have... But he hadn't been, and he was. There was no protection besides hair and skin and skull. And none of that could stop a bullet.

Batman blinked once, twice, and then looked away from Nightwing and up to the sky. He pressed Robin's face to his chest, shaking fingers carding through the boy's dark hair in a motion that was attempted to be soothing. Robin was no longer shouting or screaming, but had gone silent. He was crying, sobbing, shoulders shaking and body heaving with his attempts to stay quiet.

It started to rain. Batman felt the water washing down his cheeks and chin, rolling over his cowl and armor. It soaked Robin's hair, was likely washing blood and gunk and flesh down the street and coating everything with Nightwing's DNA. But Batman couldn't bring himself to care.

He could hardly speak when Superman arrived. Superman, who took one look at Nightwing's face and then gathered Robin into his arms. “I'll take him to the Cave,” Superman spoke softly, his face the epitome of sorrow and sympathy as he looked to Batman. “Bruce-”

“Names in the field,” Batman ground out. “I'll clean up here.”

“I've called the League already. They can handle-”

“This is _my city_ , this is _my job_ , and this is _my son_ -” Batman's voice croaked, and he cut himself off. “Clark... this is my _son_.”

Batman's hands were still shaking when the other Leaguers arrived. Martian Manhunter and the Flash went about cleaning up what was left of the scene- the rain had washed away any minute sliver of hope that anyone could piece Nightwing back together- while Black Canary went with Superman to the BatCave in an attempt to console Robin.

A smooth hand touched Batman's shoulder. He didn't move.

“I'm sorry, Bruce,” Wonder Woman said quietly. “He was a good boy. A great man.”

Batman couldn't bring it in himself to speak. He didn't want to.

After some time of watching Manhunter and Flash tidy up- Manhunter took Nightwing's body to the BatCave so Leslie could tend to it- Batman turned on his heel and disappeared into the night.

No one went after him.

 

…

 

The funeral was a somber affair, as most funerals were. It was Nightwing's funeral, not Dick Grayson's. Dick's wouldn't happen for a few more months for secret identity's sake. As far as the world knew, Dick Grayson was on vacation touring Europe.

Dozens of people got up to say their little blurbs about Nightwing- Kid Flash, Red Arrow, another half of the Young Justice team- and a few Leaguers as well- Superman, Black Canary, Wonder Woman- but it was only when Robin got up and could barely strangle through his speech, paper fluttering in his hands as he shook, that everyone began to cry.

Batman didn't speak once through the entire funeral. A few people came up and offered their condolences, but those who knew Batman better stayed away and suffered with longful glances towards the closed coffin within which Nightwing lay.

After the funeral, Batman locked himself down in the Cave and banished Robin upstairs to the Manor. He didn't let anyone in. Not Superman, not Black Canary, not even _Alfred_. Days passed, and then a week, and then two weeks. Batman rarely took off the cowl. He only ate when necessary and he showered less. It wasn't until Clark showed up in civvies, Alfred and Leslie behind him, that knocked Batman from his stupor.

Bruce checked on Tim first. The boy was still reeling from his father's murder, and now his brother's? Bruce almost felt guilty for not reacting better to the boy's grief. But Tim was already past the anger part of his grief and was on to depression. He accepted Bruce's hug instantly, sobbing into the man's shirt a little more noisily than he had the night Dick- the night _Nightwing_ died. Was murdered.

Bruce had long since caught and beat to hell the thug that had killed Nightwing. The man would barely be able to walk again without pain after the many ways Bruce broke his legs. He could offer that consolation to Tim at least, if nothing more. There was nothing left _to_ offer. Tim's big brother was dead.

And so was Bruce's son.

 

…

 

Years passed. Jason came back from the dead, the Young Justice team- reeling from the loss of their leader- disbanded and formed two groups: the Outsiders and the Titans, and the children Cassandra and Damian came into Bruce's life. Tim told them stories of Dick, and once Damian commented, “If he was so great then how was he killed?” Tim had nearly ripped Damian to shreds before Jason and Barbara held him back.

More happened. Barbara was paralyzed by the Joker and became Oracle, Damian died and came back to life, and Bruce and Selina got engaged.

It was a few weeks before their wedding that it happened.

“Bruce Wayne,” the dark voice rose Bruce from his slumber, “the Court of Owls has sentenced you to die.” Bruce barely managed to roll off the bed, pushing Selina out of the way, before three throwing knives embedded themselves in the pillow he had just been resting on. How the hell had the intruder not woken him up? And what the hell was the Court of Owls? A nursery rhyme, Bruce knew, one to scare children into their beds, but- surely it wasn't real. Bruce had never found any evidence besides a few vague assassinations that never panned out.

But the Talon in his bedroom said otherwise.

Selina had already grabbed her whip and was in combat with the intruder before Bruce shouted to her, “Get the children!” Selina hesitated, but ran from the room in favor of waking their back-up. Before the Talon could give chase, Bruce tackled him to the ground. He earned a knife to the torso for that, shallow enough that he wouldn't bleed out but deep enough to cause distracting pain.

“Who are you?” Bruce snarled as he got the Talon in a head-lock.

“Bruce Wayne,” the Talon repeated with ferocity, “the Court of Owls has-”

“-sentenced me to die. You said that,” Bruce growled before knocking the Talon into the bedside table. A lamp shattered, the glass embedding itself into the Talon's armor and flesh. He snarled, whirling around to throw more knives Bruce's way. The man blocked, but without his armor the knives shredded through his forearms and made him curse as blood poured down to his elbows.

It was then that the children and Selina showed up. With Cassandra, Tim, Damian, and Selina as his back-up the Talon was in their grasp and unconscious in minutes. Not without giving up a good fight though. They all sported bruises and bloody cuts from the Talon's claws and knives.

“Get him down to the Cave for interrogation,” Bruce grunted. Tim and Damian nodded before doing just that.

Apparently one of his children called Red Hood, because Jason was there by the time they all wrangled themselves out of Medical and into the holding cell of the Cave. The Talon was conscious by then too, deathly still in the chair he was restrained to. “Bruce Wayne-” he began once more, only to be cut off by Damian.

“Yes, the Court of Owls has sentenced Father to die. You've said this before.”

“-the Court of Owls offers their condolences,” the Talon said instead, “to the death of your son. And to his life.”

Bruce tensed up instantly. Rounding forward, he grabbed the Talon's shirtfront and twisted it up. “What the hell do you know about my son?” Bruce snarled. He couldn't see under the Talon's mask- they had yet to remove it- but he could _feel_ the grin radiating from him.

“His mask,” Jason growled, itching towards his guns, “take the fucker's mask off so I can see him when I deck him.”

Bruce ripped the mask off the Talon's face.

Tim's and Selina's gasps rang in the air for several moments afterwards.

Two familiar yet unfamiliar yellow eyes blinked up at them, surrounded by veins of black and pale white skin. But the jawline was the same, as was the nose and the brows.

Dick Grayson blinked up at his father and grinned.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> lol im dead inside


End file.
